


Dessert First

by HoneyGrunge



Category: The Evil Within (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Chases, F/M, Glove Kink, Knifeplay, Light daddy kink, Murder, Murder Kink, Penis In Vagina Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Predator/Prey, Psychological Torture, Rape/Non-con Elements, Teratophilia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 08:12:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17845688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneyGrunge/pseuds/HoneyGrunge
Summary: You meet a man named Stefano rather unexpectedly, who decides to treat you to a date.A date to end all dates, you could say...





	Dessert First

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lostsoullover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostsoullover/gifts).



> A lovely reader requested more Stefano, and of course I was more than happy to write more about this gorgeous, terrifying artist ^_^
> 
> Also I know jack shit Italian so what I'm using is from Google translate lmaooo I'm so sorry if it's butchered

You're at work when you meet him. Dapper and positively BEYOND handsome, flashing you a mouthful of blinding white teeth as he orders his latte.

"What's a lovely lady like you doing stuck inside on such a fine day?" he flirts, slipping you a generous tip and leaning forward to privatize the conversation. 

You cock a brow at him, glancing out the window.

"It's raining," you laugh, waiting for his milk to finish steaming.

"But rain is beautiful! Sunshine is highly overrated my dear, especially when you're as pale as I am," he chuckles. "But I daresay it's not as beautiful as you. My name is Stefano, by the way; forgive me for not introducing myself earlier. What's yours, darling?"

You can't help but blush as you reply, sneaking a better look at him while preparing his drink. He's dressed to the nines, a silk scarf wrapped around his (rather bitable) neck and soft kid gloves gracing his slender fingers. The attire plus his Italian accent makes you assume that he must be a tourist; perhaps a rich CEO here on business or leisure. 

"Thank you, sir," you whisper in response, sliding him his drink.

"I know I'm a tad late, but did you have a date this last Valentine's day?"

You stare at him in shock. Of all the people to hit on you, you've never had such a rich looking man try to ask you out. You splutter, blushing again and shyly wiping off the machine.

"Um...well, no."

"I'd like to correct that then. May I please have your number?"

He practically purrs the words, flicking them off his talented tongue like sweet caramel candies. His angled feline eyes are slitted, looking much more fit for a bedroom than the middle of a crowded coffee shop.

Intimidated and pleasantly overwhelmed, you recite your number, watching him as he saunters out and casts a last glance back before leaving.

The look is possessive...almost predatorial. Chills shiver down your spine

"You better secure that bag honey," a coworker snickers, nudging you in the hip and sliding you the next half finished drink.

You complete your workday in a giddy haze, pinching yourself multiple times to make sure you aren't dreaming.

Unfortunately for you, you aren't. 

The coming nightmare will be far too real.

 

 

 

You check your phone, trying to keep from gnawing your lip and ruining your makeup. It's 5:59 pm; he's supposed to be here at 6:00. Your heart thumps in your chest when you get a text message, indulging in a stupid grin when you realize that it's him.

You step outside and freeze. A Lamborghini Aventador S is sitting in your driveway, engine idling lowly like a dormant dragon. Your date is already standing by the passenger side, hands politely clasped behind his back while he waits.

"Evening! Step right up, perdere," he says, chuckling at your incredulous facial expression.

You scurry forward, trying to sit as gracefully as possible. Silence reigns until he pulls out of the driveway. He glances over at you, giving you a warm smile and trying to make you feel comfortable.

"I thought we could do something a little more homely. How does my place sound?"

You agree but don't pursue an active conversation, terrified of sounding stupid and uneducated. It's bare bones small talk until he finally turns into a long driveway; driving for what feels like 20 minutes. Eventually, you come upon a massive house.

Or more accurately, a mansion.

It's dark and Victorian, guarded by hunched, snarling gargoyles at every eave. Perhaps you're imagining it...but you'd swear in a court of law that their eyes are flashing down at you with malicious intent.

Stefano chuckles while you stare, pulling up to a valet and walking over to your door. He helps you out, climbing the steps ahead of you as you walk.

"You look shell-shocked, love! Come now, surely you've been in a mansion before? Looks exquisite as yours must attract some very wealthy suitors," Stefano teases, throwing open the massive doors and walking inside.

His Armani shoes click, echoing in the foyer as you explore. The walls are lined with photographs, mostly bleak landscapes depicting corpses and razed valleys.

"Are...are these your work?" you ask, stopping to stare at a particularly gruesome photo. 

A headless soldier is half slumped out of a trench. A tiny arm is poking out from beneath the body; your heart plummets when the connection clicks. 

What kind of person collects art like this?

"Ahhh, yes, they are mine. I apologize, I should have prepared you; you see, I'm a war photographer. As a pacifist, I consider it my duty to document the horrors of war and spread awareness."

You cast a glance over at him. He's studying the art over your shoulder, a look of grim satisfaction on his Adonis features. You feel guilty for assuming the worst intentions, but before you can say anything, he's grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards the massive stairway.

"Come! My kitchen has prepared a full course dinner for us, we mustn't let it get cold!"

He leads you to an ornate dining room, encouraging you to sit and taking a seat directly adjacent to you. An antique camera rests on the extended table, which he picks up and aims in your direction. But he doesn't snap a picture. Instead, he barks out a good humored laugh, thunking the equipment back down and pulling a napkin off the table to settle into his lap.

Finally, your timidity begins to fade. He may be wealthy - and devilishly attractive - but if he invited you here then obviously he finds you desirable. Allowing yourself to be intimidated will only ruin your chances.

Plus, you haven't gotten laid in far too long.

And so, you decide to snatch the reigns up as best you can.

"You know....I'm one of those ladies who enjoys dessert first," you point out, thanking him when he pours you a glass of wine.

He cocks a manicured brow, studying your suggestive smirk.

"Is that so?....tell me, what desserts do you typically prefer?"

"Mmm....well I'm not picky. But I do prefer extra whipped cream whenever I can get it."

This time he returns the smirk, taking a sip of wine and leaning back. He flicks his fringe out of his face and gives your breasts a pointed glance.

"Well then, would you like a sample of the Valentini special?" your date simpers.

The corny joke makes you giggle. Emboldened, you reach over to touch his knee, sliding forward and dropping your eyes when he follows suit. Normally, you wouldn't be this brash. 

But nothing about this situation is normal.

"Mmmm, you're a hungry one," he murmers, grasping your hand and pulling it further up his thigh. Once it reaches his crotch, you give it a squeeze, massaging the beginnings of an erection through the silken trousers.

"May I please get more than a sample?" you breathe.

His gloved hand snatches out to grab your chin. The unexpected move rips a gasp out of you, but also sets off fireworks in your pussy. 

"Before you begin...I am a VERY demanding partner. Can you handle that?"

Your heart thuds; his heavy lidded eyes glint in the room's ambient lighting. 

"Yes."

Just after you consent, he's dragged you out of your chair by your arm, whipping a hand behind your neck and grinding your face into his groin. You squeak, worried about messing your makeup, but he reassures you when you voice your concern.

"A ruined woman is the prettiest woman," he hisses.

He commands you to unzip his pants with a snarl, and you can't help but obey. Your curious fingers slip in and brush across his warmth, discovering distinct veins and velvety, tender skin. A soft moan rewards your explorations when you finally grasp him; returning the moan with one of your own and wiggling him out.

He's everything you'd hoped and more. The flared head glistens with precum, and your hand can barely wrap around his impressive girth. You stare up at him through your lashes, growing wetter by the second at the sight of his cock and face paired together. His cheekbones are even more prominent from this angle, as are his defined lips. 

"I know it's difficult to tear your eyes away darling, but your dessert's growing cold," he whines.

"Sorry daddy," you whisper, gauging his reaction to the title. He smirks, biting his lip and reaching down to caress your cheek.

"Mmmmmm, it's all right darling."

You return your attention to his cock, grasping the base to steady him and closing your painted lips around his twitching heat. He groans at the delicious initial sucks, eyes and head rolling back as you swipe the pink slit with your tongue. 

Soon, you have him panting and writhing, smirking through the blowjob as the beautiful man loses control under your ministrations. He peaks quickly, bucking into your mouth and letting out a series of delicious, high pitched moans. His shoes squeak against the wooden floor and his hand tightens on the back of your neck, anchoring him through the climax. Finally, he slumps in the chair, humming while you milk him for every last drop.

But in an instant, the atmosphere comes crashing down and your lungs struggle to draw breath.

The cold kiss of metal at your throat freezes you. Stefano's head snaps forward to give you a bone chilling grin as the sharp blade cuts into you ever so slightly; a trickle of blood staining his kid glove when he swipes at the sanguine stream.

"Well, Y/N...now that you mention it...I think I'd like my dessert first too."

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter and Tumblr: Maedhros36  
> I hope you enjoyed <333


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